


A Very Shoot Christmas

by chick_with_wifi



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Domestic Fluff, F/F, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-07 21:18:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 15,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8816554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chick_with_wifi/pseuds/chick_with_wifi
Summary: Root, Shaw, Bear and the Machine get some well-deserved downtime over the holiday season. But because it's Team Machine, adventure and excitement are never that far behind.Mostly fluff but also some serious stuff including: Root having issues living with another person, Root dissociating and talking about feelings.





	1. A tree or not a tree

**Author's Note:**

> I know I'm two days early, but I really wanted to start posting this as soon as possible. Hope you enjoy!

“This one!”

“Too big.”

“This one!”

“Too small.”

“This one!”

Shaw wrinkled her nose distastefully. “Too purple.”

“ _This one!_ ” Root stopped walking and spread her hands out dramatically, presenting a large, dark green real tree.

Shaw tilted her head to the side and examined it. “It’ll do.”

“‘It’ll do’?” gasped Root, placing a hand on her chest dramatically and leaning away from Shaw. “ _’It’ll do’?_ Sameen, this tree is perfect. Look at it!” She walked behind Shaw and placed a hand on either side of her head, directing her gaze towards the tree. “Admire the sturdy trunk, the optimum decoration-bearing branches, the height that is tall enough to be impressive but not so tall as to be obnoxious.”

“Alright,” said Shaw heavily. “It’s a wonderful tree. Can we go home now?”

“After we have bought it.” Root raised her hand and smiled pleasantly at the shop assistant, asking how she would go about purchasing the tree and getting it to their car.

The shop assistant pulled a small electronic device out of his overall pocket and tapped the screen with the stylus a few times. “That’ll be 50 dollars.”

Root produced the cash from her coat pocket and handed it to him.

“Thank you. As for getting it into your car, I’ll be happy to help.”

Root felt a warm breeze on the back of her neck as Shaw leaned closer to her good ear and whispered, “That tree is bigger than our car.”

“Yes, but he doesn't know that,” Root whispered back, tilting her head slightly so her loose hair fell over her face for a split second, preventing the shop assistant from realising she had spoken.

“What the-” Shaw’s sentence was cut off by Root shooting her a quick pained expression and indicating with her eyes to the tree.

Now is not the time, thought Root. I have to figure out a way of getting this tree to our house before somebody realises how much of this transaction is completely illegal. “Our car is parked just outside,” she said to the shop assistant and he gestured for her to lead the way.

Root smiled and linked arms with Shaw, muttering, “Distract him when we get outside.” 

The car park was covered with a thin layer of muddy slush, and Root and Shaw’s small black car was parked under a bare-branched tree at the left. However, Root walked over to a large, silver car that looked like it cost more money than Root had ever wired out of a stranger’s account in one go. In her ear, the Machine began talking. _“This belongs to Kean Hicks. He earns enough money a month to easily buy another.”_

Root ‘winked’ at Shaw to indicate it was time then squatted behind the driver's door, out of sight of the other two. Her thighs began burning in protest, but she ignored it in favour of taking wire strippers out of her pocket and holding them between her teeth as she took the next item out of her pocket - a length of metal wire. She fed it through the small gap between the rubber at the top of the car door and the roof of the car, moving it downwards until it pressed the unlock button on the other side of the window. There was a click and she opened the door, sitting in the driver's seat and beginning the next stage of her plan. 

Root could just hear Sameen talking to the shop assistant about one of the Christmas displays in the window, but could only make out the occasional word. A fact she was grateful for, because that meant it couldn't distract her from hotwiring the car. If she did it incorrectly she would set the alarm off and their entire charade would be over. Using the screwdriver on her Swiss army knife, she removed the cover on the steering column and held the battery and a bundle of wires out of the way with one hand. Her fingers were beginning to cramp from the cold and she really wished somebody had reminded her to wear gloves. Nonetheless, she carried on and worked quickly. The next step was to take the wire strippers in her other hand, strip an inch from both the battery wires and twist them together with the ignition wire. Lastly, and this was the most difficult part, she had to strip and spark the starter wire against the ignition wire. It took her a few tries but she managed to do it without setting anything on fire.

Root revved the engine until it started, disconnected the starter wire then yanked the wheel hard to one side so it would unlock she would be able to steer. Before getting out of the car, she turned on the heating and rubbed her hands together to warm them up.

Smile fixed in place, she walked back over to Shaw and the shop assistant. “The car is warming up. What are we looking at?”

“Your wife seems to really like this display,” said the shop assistant, gesturing to the window where a scene showed animals surrounding a cradle that held a little baby doll swathed in blankets. If you watched it for a few seconds, the goat nodded its head and the lamb lifted one hoof. Even Root had to admit it was adorable.

“Well she does love animals.” Root put one arm around Shaw’s shoulders affectionately. “Don't you, babe?”

“Indeed I do. Now how about getting the tree into our car?”

The stress on ‘our’ was negligible, but Root picked up on it.

“Of course.” 

Shaw, with the help of the shop assistant, easily lifted the tree into the back of the car. The back seats had to be folded down and trunk was open with the end of the tree poking out of it, but they were still counting it as a success.

“Good job, guys!” Root gave them a little round of applause then said goodbye to the shop assistant and got into the front passenger seat. Shaw was driving, of course.

They drove back to the safehouse, but ended up sitting in the car on the driveway at a loss because neither of them had thought about how they were actually going to get the tree into the house. Oops.

“Hey, at least we finally found the perfect tree,” said Root. “High five!” She held up her hand and moved it towards Shaw’s, but got it at the wrong angle and ended up caressing Shaw’s hand. “Take two.” They tried again but Shaw got Root’s hand side-on. “Right, look at my elbow,” ordered Root, parroting advice that she couldn't remember being given but was fairly sure it was legit.

She fixed her own gaze on Sameen’s elbow and tried once more, but her palm struck Shaw’s slightly off center. Root was beginning to regret making the life choice of asking Shaw for a high five. Maybe she could just leave the country. Nobody would notice, right?

“Look at my elbow,” advised Shaw.

“I was looking at your elbow!”

“Your face was looking at my elbow,” grumbled Shaw.

Root kept her response of ‘well yeah’ internal because she could sense Shaw was beginning to run out of patience and she didn't want to push it. After all, it had been a long day. In fact, she was about to abandon her high five altogether when Shaw raised her hand and Root reacted instinctively, giving her the most crisp, flawless high five the world had ever seen. She was going to ask the Machine to put a report of it on the next fake resume She wrote for her.

“I’ll phone John and ask for his help getting the tree inside,” said Shaw.

“Could you ask him to just help us getting it out of the car? I need to move this before Kean Hicks puts a BOLO on it and somebody sees it sat outside our house.”

“Yeah, sure.” Shaw sent a quick text to John. “Why did you have to steal a car anyway?”

Root closed her eyes and leant back in her seat. “Ours was too small and we couldn't exactly buy a new one, what with us both being legally missing presumed dead. And we can't just hide out in the subway and rely on Lionel’s generosity. Well we could, but it wouldn't be fair on him.”

“Well, I got no problems with breaking the law so long as we don't get arrested for it.”

Root chuckled. “Oh Sameen. Where is your Christmas spirit?”


	2. Deck the halls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't find a way of making either of these longer, so you have two oneshots for the price of one here!

The apartment was pleasantly warm as Root, wearing a fluffy white jumper with a pale brown cartoon reindeer on it, hung bright and glittery decorations on the gargantuan tree. She had somehow managed to fit it into the room through sheer determination, apparently defying the laws of physics the process, and was wrapping it in gold tinsel and rainbow fairy lights, singing the only Christmas carol she actually knew all the words to - Jingle Bells.

Thanks to the festivities and the packet of gingerbread she had shared with Sameen before the latter had gone out to walk Bear, she had a warm fuzzy feeling in the pit of her stomach. This was the first year she had ever properly celebrated anything really, and Root was determined to live out every possible holiday season cliché.

“I know it's not your fault you’re deaf,” said Shaw from somewhere behind Root, making her jump and almost bring the entire tree crashing down via the lights she was still holding. “But babe, you really can't sing.” She was clad from head to toe in black, wearing a thick coat, wellies, a scarf and a wooly beanie that almost covered her entire face. Where she was stood a small puddle was forming on the navy carpet and the light dusting of snow on her head and shoulders was beginning to melt in the warmth of the room.

“Partially deaf, Sameen. After all, I can still hear your dulcet tones.” She reached past the shorter woman to pick up a green candycane-shaped decoration made of spun glass and carefully hung it on the tree.

“Do you even have a filter or do things just pass from your subconscious straight to your lips?”

“Nothing about me is straight. Not even my hair.” For good measure Root tossed her dark curls. Bear seemed to take this as an indication to shake himself and did so promptly, showering the couple with droplets of water. Shaw didn't mind, but Root flinched and looked down sadly at her clothes.

Shaw nodded in understanding and amusement. “So that's why you never wear your hair straight.”

“I don't want to give people the wrong impression.” She picked up the final decoration, a silver star, and looked pensively at the tree. “I guess I should put this on the top,” she mused. “Since you are obviously too short.”

Shaw practically growled and snatched the star off Root who preceded to watch with barely concealed amusement as the shorter woman pulled up one of the chairs from the dining table, stood on it and stretched up on tiptoe with a grimly determined expression on her face. Seconds later she set the star in pride of place and paused for a second to admire her handiwork.

“I bet even you couldn't have reached,” grumbled Shaw as she slid the chair back under the table. “Y’know, since you insisted on buying one the size of Everest.”

“Keep telling yourself that, Sweetie.” Root bent down to switch on the lights at the plug socket. The room was instantaneously bathed in a soft colourful glow and Root couldn't stop smiling as she slid an arm around Shaw’s waist and rested her head on the shorter woman’s shoulder.

*****

Root emerged from her bedroom with a black duvet wrapped around her like a shawl with just her head visible at the top. Her hair was in two messy French braids from which several stray locks were beginning to come loose. “Babe? Whatcha makin’?”

“Christmas pudding,” replied Shaw from where she was putting a bowl in the dishwasher in the kitchen. She wore one of Root’s hoodys with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, shorts and socks.

“Aren't you cold?” Root eyed Shaw’s bare legs.

“A little.” She checked the timer on the oven that had about one minute left, and glanced at the progress of her tray.

Root shuffled forwards so she was behind Shaw and wrapped her arms around her and placed the duvet over her shoulders. Root felt the slight chill of Shaw’s skin which soon seeped away and left them both toasty warm.

“Root,” Shaw mumbled, batting her arms away. “I’m trying to bake.”

“But you're finished. Your food is in the oven.” Root didn't move a muscle until the oven beeped, then Shaw threw the duvet off both of them and put on oven mitts to retrieve her christmas pudding.

Root squeaked in indignation and hurriedly grabbed the cover, pulling it around her before it could lose any of its warmth. From her cocoon she watched as Shaw carefully carried the tray to the dining table and set it down on a rubber mat. 

Root could smell thee hearty, festive aroma immediately. And obviously somebody else could also because the pitter-patter of dog paws approached within seconds.

“You come to investigate, big boy?” asked Shaw, squatting down to scratch behind his ears. Bear wagged his tail in response and tilted his head back in order to lick Shaw’s hand. “Who's a good boy?” she said as Bear rolled over. She then tucked her legs under herself more comfortably and tickled his tummy.

Root observed silently, not wanting to intrude on their moment, and fiddled with the end of one of her braids.

After Shaw stood and went to fetch bowls for the Christmas pudding, Bear clambered up onto one of the chairs and began to eat the freshly made food.

Shaw hadn't noticed so Root calmly called, “Are you sure he's a good boy?”

Shaw turned and saw what Bear was doing. “Yes,” she said firmly. “Bear can do no wrong.”

Root nodded. 

“He probably wanted to show his appreciation for my culinary skills,” continued Shaw decisively.

“Alright.” Bear can do no wrong, thought Root. So next time I accidentally break something - and we all know there will be a next time - I’m blaming it on the dog. Sorted.

Shaw glanced from the sofa to the duvet to Root. “So are we gonna cuddle on the sofa or what? Cos I’ve gotten cold now since this ridiculous-ass safehouse doesn't have central heating. It's not even like Finch couldn't afford it when he got this digs, he just refused.”

Root laughed and wrapped Shaw in the duvet again, and together they flopped onto the sofa.


	3. Christmas is a time of fun

Root and Shaw were sitting next to each other on the sofa in the safehouse, using their respective laptops, both of which Root had previously installed with state-of-the-art encryption software.

The pair worked in companionable silence for a while, Root watching videos with an earbud in her good ear, twirling the cord of the other earbud around her finger absently.

She laughed at something, causing Shaw to glance over at her with furrowed brows.

“Sorry,” whispered Root, chewing a fingernail with a slightly worried expression on her face.

“No, it's fine,” said Shaw calmly. “What are you watching?”

“I’m watching people do the whisper challenge.” She proceeded to wrestle with her conscience for an entire minute. On one hand, she really wanted to do the challenge and ached to suggest as much to Shaw, but on the other hand Shaw would probably think it was stupid and she didn't want to put her in a position where she would have to choose between doing something she didn't want to do and risking upsetting Root. It was stupid, she never should have said anything. But perhaps if she offered to do something nice for Shaw afterwards, maybe buy her food since that was always appreciated, or perhaps she could take Bear -

“Root? Is anybody there?” Shaw clicked her fingers in front of Root’s face.

“Sorry.” Root took a breath.

“You did that thing again.” Shaw looked concerned. No, more than that. Worried.

“That thing?” Her voice came out quiet and high pitched, and made her want to take back her words.

“Staring off into the distance with a blank expression on your face. But it's not like when Overlord is speaking, it's more vacant.” 

Shaw’s searching gaze didn't leave her face, and Root found herself squirming. She felt self-conscious and clumsy. “Oh.” Her pulse was pounding in the tips of her fingers and her head was spinning slightly. To try and keep her focus, she bit the inside of her gum.

“Do you want some water or something?” offered Shaw.

“No thank you.” Root swallowed.

“OK.” Shaw placed her laptop on the coffee table and crossed her legs on the sofa, facing Root. “Let's do this then.”

“Uh….” Root didn't want to admit her confusion but her expression must have given it away.

“You, me, the whisper challenge. Let's go.”

Root unplugged her headphones from her laptop and handed them to Shaw who attached them to her phone then put them in her ears, playing music loudly.

“So you're going to read aloud from a book from the shelf,” said Shaw considerably louder than usual. “And I have to guess what you're saying.”

Root nodded, stood and ran a finger along the shelf until she reached one that had been there before they moved in, among the collection designed to make the a abode look more like a home and less like a safehouse designed for functionality. More normal.

She pulled out the slightly tatty secondhand copy of Northern Lights and opened it at a random page as she sat back on the sofa. Scanning the page, she searched for a line that made sense out of context. Then she made sure Shaw was paying attention, “You ready?”

“Yes.”

Root read aloud slowly and clearly, “I judge you are an honest man.”

Shaw blinked and narrowed her eyes slightly. “Again?”

Root repeated.

“I...urge you are on it man?”

“Ooh, close, close. You nearly got it.”

Shaw pulled one earphone out. “What?”

“You're close. The sentence was ‘I judge you are an honest man’.” Shaw made an expression that said ‘fair enough’ and Root smiled. “You can have half a point.”

“You're too kind.” Shaw handed the music to Root and flipped through the book. “You have the unfair advantage of already being able to read lips,” complained Shaw.

Root didn't exactly think that needing to read lips could constitute as an advantage in just about any other situation, but she didn't like to talk about it. “You’ll just have to choose me a hard sentence then.”

Shaw smiled and started scouring the page for something difficult.

Root wasn't wearing the external part of her implant but she put the earbud in her ear anyway, mostly so Shaw wouldn't suspect her of using the machine to cheat. Sameen had a competitive streak a mile wide - as did Root, but hers manifested slightly differently. Shaw was more prone to getting almost violent or distracting her opponent at a crucial moment, whereas Root had nothing against cheating of hustling her competitor five ways to Sunday.

She pressed play and Immortals by Fall Out Boy immediately came through the earphones loudly, making her jump and wince.

“Ready?” asked Shaw, glancing up from the book.

Root nodded, moving her shoulders from side to side in time with the music. 

Shaw read the sentence and Root’s brain immediately jumped into analysis mode. The first two words were almost definitely ‘as the’, unless that was her automatically substituting in common words. The next word looked like it could be ‘virtual’ but she was fairly sure they didn't have that sort of thing in Lyra’s world. The following word was ‘combat’ as far as Root could tell, considering both facts that it was a very Shaw sentence to pick and she’d said the word in front of Root before.

The second half of the sentence was something along the lines of ‘moved towards the sent face’ which was probably wrong. That's what you get for telling Sameen Shaw to pick a hard one. Lesson learned, zero out of ten would nor recommend. “As the virtual combat moved towards the sent face?” Root laughed. “That doesn't even make sense!”

Shaw reached over and gently pulled the earbuds out of Root's ears. “It was ‘as the ritual combat moved towards the second phase’. You did good!”

Shaw listened to the music while Rot chose her second sentence then zoned back in when she was ready. “The air she was breathing was frozen.”

The shorter woman looked so focussed it was almost comical. “The...egg she was...bleeding was frozen?”

Root snorted then clamped a hand over her mouth. “What?! That's cruelty to eggs!”

Shaw coughed. “What was the actual sentence?”

“‘The air she was breathing was frozen’.”

“Huh.” She reached over and claimed the book. “Your turn.”

With the context of the book that Root had read back in the day and the fact that Shaw had chosen an easy one with common words, Root got it instantly. “It tells the truth.”

“Correct.”

“Talking about the alethiometer, right?”

“Yes.” Shaw put the book away and Root handed the phone back to her. “So you've read His Dark Materials?”

“Of course.”

“Have you seen the film?”

Root's jaw dropped. “There's a film?!”

“Alright,” said Shaw. “Calm down. So I take it you haven't seen the film?”

“No…”

“Do you want to? We can probably find it online.”

Root felt a tingle on the back of her neck as she watched Shaw type with a find expression on her face, and in her ear the machine began telling her the ratings and cast of the film. For the first time, Root realised what people meant when they said Christmas was a holiday to spend with your family.


	4. Take two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daily updates from now until Christmas eve! Hope you all enjoy :)

Root tossed the remains of her third attempt at making Christmas pudding (read: toxic waste), baking tray and all, into the trash then swiftly followed it with the oven mitts. Just in case. Glad that's over, she thought as she brushed her hands off. Then she picked up the bowl and squatted down to open the dishwasher.

“We’re back!” announced Shaw as she entered the kitchen with Bear.

Still holding the bowl, Root stood, pivoted on the spot and approached her girlfriend in one step. “Hey you,” she greeted, wrapping one arm around Shaw’s shoulder in a half-hug. She made sure to keep the bowl away from her without dropping it.

“You know,” Sameen said, “You really need to start pulling your weight and take Bear on at least one walk.”

Root placed the bowl in the dishwasher, then stood with her hands in her back jeans pockets. “But he loves you so much.”

“He’d love you too if you took him out for a walk or gave him treats.” As if to demonstrate, she took a treat out of her coat pocket and held it out for Bear, who sat on his haunches and daintily took it from her.

“I’m sure he would.”

Shaw’s gaze drifted to the oven so Root positioned herself directly in front of it and tried to distract her. “Hey Shaw, don't you think Bear is starting to look a bit podgy?”

“Shut your mouth! He is perfect. Aren't you, Gorgeous?” She knelt down and stroked the dog’s glossy brown coat. In response, he wagged his tail so hard Root began to wonder if it would be possible for him to take flight.

“Uhuh.” Root casually lent against the work surface, still trying to keep her body between Shaw and the oven.

“Hey, Root?”

“Yeah?”

“Is that our oven?”

Root winced and briefly debated lying before concluding Shaw would be able to tell instantly so there was no point. “No, it's the neighbours’.”

“I see. And why do we have the neighbours’ oven?”

“Ours blew up.”

Shaw nodded as if she had suspected as much. “I guess that will be why the smoke alarm in the living room has been disabled?”

“The neighbours won't even notice, they’re in the Alps for the holidays and don't get back until the new year.”

“Did Big Sister tell you that?”

“She did. She also told me that you have been walking a different route to usual with Bear. Is there a particular reason for this?” Her tone was light but suggested a hint of accusation.

“I was avoiding someone. How did you get the oven in here? In fact no. I don't want to know.” Shaw brushed a stray lock of hair out of her face in exasperation.

“No you really don't. Were you avoiding anyone in particular?”

“Nobody you know.”

Root smirked. “Well wouldn't know this individual if you kept avoiding them, would I?”

Shaw shook her head. “You think you're funny, don’t you?”

“I am as amusing as a morning lark that doth sing in the merry tune.”

“Shouldn't it be ‘that doth sing a merry tune’?”

“No because if someone is ill you ask if they speak in the sick tune. Oh my word, Sameen. Get with the Shakespeare.”

“Root, just because you were in Much Ado About Nothing _one_ time doesn't mean you are suddenly the font of all knowledge about all things Shakespeare.”

The taller woman folded her arms and pouted. “How do you know?”

Shaw sat down at the kitchen island. “I don't.”

Root felt that she needed to change the subject so she grabbed a beer out of the fridge and slid it across the counter towards Shaw. “What are your plans for Christmas day?”

“Dunno. Maybe invite the team over for a meal? Obviously not one cooked by you, that goes without saying.”

“We need to invite Carter,” said Root. “And maybe Zoe, you said the two of them seemed to get along really well that time y’all went clubbing.”

Shaw took a sip of her beer. “Firstly, stop trying to play matchmaker for everyone we know and secondly, Joss is as straight as a spirit level held in the correct manner.”

“Oh.” 

Root didn't speak for a few seconds until Shaw said, “But we could always set them both up with Reese. That would make it horrendously awkward for him and we could laugh about it.”

Root smiled. “I like your thinking. Let’s get scheming.”


	5. Making the best of a bad situation

Root was standing by the window and watching the gentle flakes of snow fall lazily, almost camouflaged against the bright grey sky. A pristine white blanket enveloped everything as far as the eye could see. “Hey Sameen,” called Root. “It’s snowing!” Her eyes were bright with excitement and she couldn't suppress the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“What about it?” Shaw looked up from her laptop to glance out of the window.

“It’s really heavy so we could go out in it!” Root’s enthusiasm was almost childlike, and truthfully, she was ecstatic to be able to share this simple joy with somebody she truly cared about. With Shaw she was unafraid to be herself and hoped that Shaw felt the same way.

“Are you sure you want to? Your skinny ass might freeze.”

“Certain.”

Shaw joined Root at the window. “It’s like three feet deep. I doubt we'll even be able to open the door.”

“That's fine. We can just climb out of the window.” Root was still watching the fast-falling snow, but when Shaw didn't reply she glanced down at the shorter woman who was smiling proudly at her.

“That’s my girl. Better get wrapped up. But I have to warn you, if we have a snowball fight you are going down.”

“I’ll bear that in mind.” At the sound of his name, Bear whined and Shaw petted him. Root put on her leather jacket and zipped it up, then put her coat on over it. She wrapped a scarf around her neck and put on a beanie and a pair of gloves. Lastly, she pulled on an extra pair of socks and her boots. Within seconds she was overheating but luckily Shaw, donning similar attire, was ready to go outside. 

Root opened the window and sat on the ledge, pivoting so her legs were on the other side then let herself drop. She remembered to bend her knees when she landed like Shaw had taught her. The snow made a satisfying crunch as her boots landed on it, the only marks visible on the endless white canvas.

“Earth to Root!” said Shaw from the window ledge. “Excuse me.”

“Oh, sorry.” Root moved out of the way and began tracing something in the snow with the toe of her boot. The cold air was nippy and she was already thankful for her many layers. Flakes of snow were landing on her hair, so she took her fold-up umbrella out of her pocket and opened it, holding it over her head.

Shaw made her way over to Root, not without difficulty since her feet sunk into the snow with every step. “What are you doing and why are you doing it holding an umbrella?”

Having finished her work of art, Root allowed Shaw to look at it. She had drawn a square root sign with a forward slash inside it. “It’s my name,” explained Root. “The square root of root path. Root Root.”

“Huh.” Shaw took a picture of it on her phone. “That’s cute.”

“You’re cute.”

“You’re holding an umbrella.”

Root laughed. “Wouldn't you love to know why.”

“That is why I asked.”

“I have to maintain an air of mystery somehow.” Root tossed the end of her scarf over one shoulder.

Biting her lip, Shaw shook her head. Then she shoved her hands deep into her pockets and surveyed the area. “What do we do now?”

Root shrugged. “Make snowmen?”

“OK.” Shaw claimed one half of the garden, and Root claimed the other.

Root was fairly sure she had read somewhere about how to make snowpeople by rolling balls of snow, so she scooped up a handful and packed it in tightly then rolled it up and down the garden until it was a decent size. Despite the gloves her hands were beginning to go numb, as was her nose. She then made another, smaller ball and placed it on top of the first. With one finger, she drew a smiley face on it. After proudly admiring her handiwork, she looked over at Shaw’s. It was smaller and longer than the average snowman and the head had two small ears that stuck up. “What are you making?”

“A snowdog. Based on Bear.”

“I see. It is very….handsome.”

“Thank you.” Shaw knelt before it and carefully drew on eyes, a nose and a mouth. Next she patted a handful of snow into a ball and made as if to add it to her snowdog, only instead of doing so she threw it at Root.

The taller woman registered what was happening too late and ended up with a faceful of snow. “Sameen!” she exclaimed, brushing the cold powder off herself.

“I told you you were going down.” Shaw shrugged matter-of-factly.

“Yes well I didn't expect _this_ and now my lips are cold and you have to kiss me before I get frostbite.” She pouted until Shaw took hold of the ends of her scarf and pulled her down for a kiss.

It was warm and gentle, much softer than most of their kisses beforehand but nonetheless meaningful. Root had intended to use that opportunity to drop some snow down the back of Shaw’s top but she may or may not have gotten distracted and forgotten until Shaw pulled away and by then it was too late.

“That better?” asked Shaw.

“Much, thank you.”

“You know,” Shaw said. “You could always get revenge for that snowball…”

“How so?”

“Snowball. War.”

Root’s face stretched into a Cheshire cat grin. “I like your thinking.”

“We each have two minutes to prepare starting - now.” The two women raced to their respective sides of the garden and began preparing as quickly as they could.

Root hollowed out a small dip and stacked the snow in front of it, forming a defence barrier. Following that she got to work making as many snowballs as she could and piling them up behind the barriers. By that time the snow had soaked into just about every article of clothing she was wearing and her umbrella had been discarded somewhere behind her. Stray tendrils of damp hair fell over her face, and her waves were beginning to go frizzy. 

“Ready?” called Shaw from behind a barrier of her own.

“Ready. For France!” Root stood, snowball in one hand and scarf in the other. As she waved her scarf like a flag (which didn't really work since it was the wrong shape) she sang, “Red the blood of angry men, black the dark of ages past.”

“Red a world about to dawn, black the night that ends at last,” Shaw sang. She scoffed, “Nerd.”

Root took aim with her snowball and hit Shaw directly on the shoulder. “You call me a nerd -” she threw another “- every ten minutes.”

Shaw moulded two snowballs together to make a bigger one then lobbed it with both hands. “That’s because you do something nerdy every ten minutes.”

“Can't argue with that.” Root wrapped her scarf around her neck again and threw two snowballs at once, one in either hand.

“Now that's just showing off.” Shaw hastily ducked behind here barrier as the two snowballs flew over her head.

“I’m surprised you even had to duck, Shaw.”

“Shut up.”

The two women each threw a snowball in perfect unison and they collided halfway between the pair, shattering and raining down fine white powder.

“We’re so good at this together,” Root said. “It’s a shame the Machine didn't catch that on camera.”

“Or did She?” returned Shaw cryptically.

“What’s that supposed to mean? Have you been communicating with Her behind my back?”

No reply.

“Shaw!”


	6. In the presence of presents

Root entered the safehouse and shut the door behind her, stamping the sludge of her boots on the doormat. The sudden change in temperature caused her fingers to tingle then begin aching. Humming to herself, she walked into the living room, depositing her bags by the door, where she was met by Shaw’s stony glare.

“You stole my hat,” said Shaw.

“I wouldn't say ‘stole’. More...borrowed with questionable intention of returning?”

“You. Stole. My. Hat.”

“Yes fine. I stole your hat, I’m beyond awful, I will receive your revenge whenever I least expect it. Whatever you say, Shaw.”

“I would like an apology.”

“Why? I haven't done anything wrong.” An unpleasant feeling was beginning to settle in Root’s stomach as she hung up her coat and removed her shoes, keeping busy so she wouldn't have to look at Shaw.

“Really?” deadpanned Shaw with her arms folded.

“It was raining so I took the nearest available hat.” This was probably supposed to be one of those things that people instinctively _knew_ or picked up on subconsciously, like tidying up after yourself - Root had never cared much for society’s norms, or society in general for that matter, and as a result was trying to learn on the job while living with Shaw. It was the longest time she had voluntarily spent with another person and she was desperately trying not to be too much of a nuisance, with questionable results.

Shaw pinched the bridge of her nose. “You're just digging yourself in deeper, Root. You could have asked, then we wouldn't be in this position. And don't say you were worried I wouldn't let you because we both know that's not true.”

“I am sorry, Sameen. It won't happen again.” Before Shaw could so much as open her mouth, Root was at the other end if the room taking a small, fancily wrapped present out of one of the bags. “I hope you found your Christmas spirit, because I got you an early present.”

The wait while Shaw neatly removed the paper was agonizing and Root resisted the urge to reach over and open it for her.

Shaw took off the last of the paper and crumpled it in her hand. She turned the black case over carefully and when she caught sight of the little glass window her eyes became misty. “Root.”

“I noticed you looking at it in the store a few days ago, and didn't need the Machine to tell me it has sentimental value for you.” Shaw had looked at it the same way she looked at the Order of Lenin medal that she refused to tell Root why she kept by her bed.

Shaw nodded solemnly. “My parents gave me one as a child, but it got left behind one time when we moved house because my dad was deployed. I guess now it connects me to all three of you.”

“Would you like to wear it?” When Shaw nodded, Root took the case from her and opened it, taking the watch out and gently putting it on Shaw’s wrist and doing up the clasp. “Fancy and practical. Your parents have good taste.”

Shaw looked at the midnight-blue analog watch fondly. The background of the display was the night sky decorated with stars and the hands glowed in the dark.

“If you'll excuse me, the Machine wants me to sort something out for Her.” When Shaw didn't respond, Root left her to it and went into her own bedroom. Yes, they had separate bedrooms. It was important for both of them that they had their own space, and Shaw was a morning person and Root was...not. She also hadn't spent so much time in one place since the Faraday cage or the psychiatric facility, and having a selection of rooms made her seem less trapped. So the most logical solution was separate bedrooms.

Root knew Shaw was not one for sentimentality and how much it meant to Shaw that she had opened up to Root in this way, so she would probably want some space to be by herself. Laying back on her bed, Root held her phone above her face. “Can you see me?”

‘Yes’ was quickly written across the otherwise black screen in white capitals.

“I gave Sameen a watch like one her parents gave to her. She likes it.”

‘This means a lot to you.’

“It does. I love Sameen and want to make her happy. She loves me back, in her own way.” Root sighed happily. “But don't get jealous, I have a present in store for you too.”

‘How can you give me a present?’

Root smiled enigmatically. “You’ll see. it’s a surprise.” 

‘I look forward to it.’

Root smiled again, then put her phone on her bedside table and closed her eyes. She would never in a million years have thought she would ever be in this position, living in a safehouse in the middle of nowhere with her girlfriend, a dog and a sentient AI, but now she couldn't imagine her life any other way.


	7. Working all day long

When Root finally dragged herself out of bed, her phone immediately began ringing, almost as if the caller had been waiting for her to get up. Grumbling, she grabbed her phone off her dresser and answered it. “‘Lo?”

“Good morning to you too, Miss Groves. I hope I didn't wake you?”

Root dragged a hand across her face sleepily. “What can I do for you, Harry?”

“We have a new number and a certain someone told me you are the woman for the job.”

“Uh-uh.” She cast her eyes around the messy room in search of some suitable clothes. “And who might our number be?”

“Mellie Maguire. She works at a local IT company. I am sending you a preliminary report now.” There was the sound of him tapping his keyboard followed by a chime signalling her phone had received an email. “I trust the Machine will fill you in on the rest of the details.”

He hung up, and Root began the mammoth task of finding appropriate clothing. The suit in a drycleaning bag that Shaw had hung in her wardrobe was too formal, and the haphazard pile of jeans and T-shirts in the corner was too everyday. She spent a full two minutes rifling through the miscellaneous items in her chest of drawers before consulting the Machine. “Any suggestions?”

“Black trousers, ballet pumps, grey shirt, suit jacket.”

“Thanks.” Root located the chosen items and got changed, leaving her hair loose and forgoing makeup.

“And glasses,” added the Machine.

“Good call.” Root put on her glasses. It would probably be a good idea to wear them if she was going to be staring at screens all day.

When Root entered the main room, Shaw was sat cross-legged on one of the chairs at the breakfast bar, alternating between eating her sandwich and tossing bites of it across the room for Bear. It was to stop him getting fat, Root instantly remembered Shaw explaining to her. If he had to run to get the food then it cancelled put the calories and he wouldn't put on weight. Root wasn't convinced by the logic behind it, but Shaw believed it therefore it must be true. 

Shaw took in Root’s outfit. “You going somewhere?”

“She has a new number.”

“At this time of year?”

Root blinked. “Crime doesn't take the holidays off, Sameen.”

“Yeah, but couldn't someone else deal with it? This is meant to be our getaway to five miles west of nowhere.” She handed Root a sandwich.

“She wanted me. I’ll call you if I need backup, OK?”

Shaw nodded seriously. “Darn right you will. If Skynet is dragging you away on a mission She’d better take good care of you or I’ll find Her processors and paint pride flags on them.”

Root nibbled at her sandwich. “I can't tell if that is supposed to be a punishment.”

Shrugging, Shaw said, “Kinda. I assume the paint would mess with something technical, and pride flags seemed fitting.”

The taller woman grinned. “You softie.”

Ignoring Shaw’s protests, Root decided to leave before she could ruin their conversation. It was only a short walk to the office building so she wrapped up in a huge winter coat and set off. As she walked, the idea of the Machine being painted with pride flags made her grin so much that passersby on the sidewalk gave her worried looks.

Glaring back at them, she held her phone up to her good ear. “So, who am I today?”

“Dr Mary Hamilton. MIT graduate, there to run diagnostic tests on the computers.”

“Doctor of what, exactly?”

“Whatever you want.”

Root stifled an excited giggle, which caused an older man to move away from her. She ignored him in favour of deciding what mannerisms Dr Hamilton should have. 

By the time she reached the reception desk, all relevant traits had been finalised. She lent one hip against the counter and shared an easy smile with the receptionist. “Dr Hamilton, here for IT maintenance.”

“Of course, Dr Hamilton. Right this way.”

Root was led through to a small bay with approximately ten desks, each in their own bay with a computer and a wastepaper basket. Each desk was littered with an assortment of personal items like ornaments and picture frames, and there was a small artificial tree at one end next to a water cooler. The receptionist left, so Root temporarily had the room to herself. During which time the Machine informed her which desk belonged to Mellie and she had a quick scan through the drawers and search history. Before she could find anything remotely resembling a clue, three people entered the office talking loudly. All were wearing suits, two men and one woman.

“The woman is Mellie Maguire,” the Machine said, somewhat unnecessarily.

Mellie was very pretty, with kind features and shiny chestnut-brown hair, wearing a dark suit with a skirt and heels that could kill a man. Her facial expression was one of the utmost annoyance, directed at the man on her left. He was standing very close to her and holding a greasy box of donuts that made Root feel sick just looking at them. The second man calmly sat at one of the desks and recommenced plowing through a pile of paperwork.

Donut Guy caught sight of Root and pulled a strange face. “And just who might you be?”

She stood. “Dr Hamilton. I’m here for IT maintenance.”

Mellie slipped away and sat at her desk, which Root had just vacated.

“I have sorted all of the computers on this side,” Root lied effortlessly. “The rest will be done soon.”

She went over to the water cooler and ran herself a cup, using the last dregs of water in the process. As she was doing so, Donut Guy approached her and leaned against the wall in what she assumed was meant to be a seductive manner. “Hey, Gorgeous.”

Root didn't dignify that with a response and refused to even look at him while she drank her water.

“Did it hurt when you fell from heaven? Because you're the only ten I see.”

This time Root did look at him, in order to confirm that he was actually being serious and direct a ‘really?’ look in his direction.

“What do you say to drinks later? Maybe we could get to know each other a little better.” As he said this, he took Root’s empty plastic cup off her and tossed it into the trash can without looking.

“I’m not interested,” Root replied. “At all.”

The other man approached them and glared at Donut Guy. “Come on, Oscar. Stop pestering her; she said she isn't interested.”

He tried to get Oscar to come with him, but Oscar wasn't having any of it. He turned back to Rot and held out the cardboard box. “Would you like a donut?”

In response, Root unscrewed the plastic crate from the top of the water cooler and lobbed it at Oscar. The unexpected weight of it hit him squarely in the chest and he staggered backwards, tripping over and crashing to the floor. He also lost his box of donuts, which went flying across the room.

There was a split second of silence in which Root tossed her hair and straightened her jacket calmly. Then Mellie excitedly applauded. “That was amazing! Victor, did you see that?”

“I did,” replied the second guy.

Oscar stood up and left the room, taking the empty crate with him.

Mellie raced over to Root. “That was truly remarkable. I have often wished to do something similar.”

“It was nothing,” Root said. “I’m just here to fix your computers.”

“Still, he won't be trying anything else for a good long while. On of my two biggest problems gone just like that. If only the same would happen to the other.”

Finally, a clue. “What is your other biggest problem?” asked Root gently.

Mellie's expression instantly became closed off and the light vanished from her eyes. “Nothing of consequence.”

“You never know, I might be able to help.”

Cautiously, Mellie glanced around the room and lowered her voice. “A while back I ran into a bad situation and had to turn to a loan shark. I paid back all the money but he keeps adding interest and threatening me. There’s nothing you can do, I don't know why I mentioned all that it's not like you can help…”

Root frowned. “Threatening you how?”

Tears began to well in Mellie's eyes. “He has a flashdrive with some information from my college days. If I don't keep paying he says he will email it to my boss and I’ll lose my job.”

Root nodded thoughtfully. “I’ll see what I can do.”

As she turned to leave, Mellie whispered, “You're not an IT worker, are you?”

“No.” Root went into the ladies’ restroom and got the Machine to patch her through to Harold. She explained the situation to him, and waited while he looked something up online.

“I have Ms Maguire’s boss’s email here. If you can get her to refuse payment later today I will be able to intercept the communication, thus allowing the loan shark to think it has been received when it has not. Since he will believe the task is done, the loan shark will cease to guard the flashdrive so closely and Mr Reese can obtain it so he will not try again in the future. I will also backtrace this communication to see if he has been blackmailing any other poor souls and get Mr Reese to check for any other flashdrives. In the meantime, you can return to your relaxing getaway with Miss Shaw.”

Root pondered the plan for a second before deeming it sound. But there was one thing niggling at the back of her mind. “But why did She want me for this mission if you and Tarzan can handle it so well?”

Harold paused before responding. “The Machine kept me updated on your actions. Oscar Fige was just as much a threat to Ms Maguire as the loan shark and you made sure he will not bother her again. I doubt anyone else would have responded in such a manner.”

Root smiled. “I trust you can take it from here. I’ll say bye to Mellie and be off.”


	8. Shopping season

Root, swamped in an oversized black hoody, excitedly entered the department store closely followed by Shaw.

Cheesy Christmas music was playing quietly over the tinny loudspeakers, various red and gold signs boasting an array of fancy cinnamon flavoured beverages decorated the windows of shops, indoors was so warm compared to outside that the atmosphere seemed almost heavy and a delicious spicy aroma hung in the air. In other words, it was time for Christmas shopping.

Even though Root had already decided to make everybody's presents by hand as it had been a long while since she'd cared about anybody enough to want to do that, she still wanted to experience the atmosphere. And Shaw had some errands to run, so there they were. Undercover as a normal couple, so to speak. A notion so obscure it was well nigh laughable.

“Where do you want to go first?” Shaw asked.

Root looked from one store to another but her mind drew a complete blank. How was she, a complete Christmas amatuer, meant to know? But Shaw would want an answer, she realised, and social protocol dictated she was expected to give one except that she didn't have one to give and quick choose a shop at random. Uh, that one, no, that one, no this isn't working. Oh crumbs I still haven't answered Shaw’s question what do I do help?

Shaw clicking her fingers in front of Root’s face snapped her back to the present, causing the reality that she was still stood in the department store to crash down around her ears so overwhelmingly she had to take a second to process everything.

“Sorry,” Root said steadily, experimentally. The voice felt like it wasn't coming from her, although at some level she knew it had to be. In search of something real and solid to anchor her back to reality, she took Shaw’s hand. It was warm and soft and familiar.

“Are you alright?” Shaw placed her other hand over their clasped pair and rubbed the back of Root’s hand. “I know this happens to you sometimes and I've been meaning to ask: do you dissociate?”

All of Root’s senses rushed to the points where she was in direct contact with Shaw. “I don't know.”

Shaw kept her gaze on their intertwined fingers instead of Root’s face, which made the conversation easier for both of them. “Hasn't anybody….have you ever…. what might be…?”

Root squeezed Shaw’s hand. “No. I know who I am, I know I’m not like other people and that's enough for me. I don't want somebody probing around in my brain trying to figure out what is ‘wrong’ with me or why I think what I think or feel what I feel. It's just who I am.”

Shaw took a second to respond and Root instantly began worrying she had said something wrong. The runaway minetrain of paranoia went careering down the track with full force.

“That is a completely valid opinion,” Shaw said. “And I appreciate you sharing it with me.”

“For you, anything.” Root, feeling much more like herself, looked again at the endless selection of shops without letting go of Shaw’s hand.

“Let's go in this one,” suggested Shaw, indicating with her head to a brightly-lit shop selling makeup. “You like nail polish, right? And you can choose your own present to make sure it is something you will actually use.”

Root allowed herself to be led into the store by Shaw who positioned her in front of the wide array of little glass bottles which she began admiring. Even though she was instantly drawn to the liquorice black, she resolved to pick something different since she already had five bottles gathering dust in the subway and an additional two in pride of place on her nightstand in the safehouse. Something sparkly caught her eye and she stepped forward for a closer look. It was dark nail polish, not quite black but easy enough to mistake for it, with flecks of purple glitter that sparkled when it caught the light. “This is perfect,” breathed Root, picking up a bottle and tilting it this way and that to watch it shimmer.

“You want that?” Shaw asked, producing her wallet from her coat pocket.

“Yes please, Sameen. Look at it!” She showed the sparkles to Shaw who nodded appreciatively.

“It does match your aesthetic.”

Root made a ‘mmhm’ of agreement and browsed some fancy hand lotions while Shaw quickly grabbed some other essentials then purchased her items. Neither of them were big shoppers (in and out was their policy), but it was mainly Shaw who handled the task of keeping the safehouse well-stocked. Root was pretty much incapable of food shopping; she finds eating hard enough as it is, how is she supposed to decide what she will want to eat in the future? And going directly from ‘dirt poor’ to ‘several billionaire's bank accounts at her disposal’ had really done a number on her ability to budget, so Shaw took care of that too. Solid, dependable, logical Shaw.

Beckoning her towards the exit, Shaw pointed towards the coffee shop.

“As long as they have caffeine I’m in,” said Root breezily.

“It’s a coffee shop. Of course they have caffeine, you dummy.” Shaw rolled her eyes and elbowed Root fondly.

“How fortuitous.” The left the shop and began making a beeline for the small coffee shop.

“I thought we agreed no five-syllable words during this break?” Shaw raised one eyebrow.

Root quickly checked on her fingers. “It was only four syllables!”

“Close enough.”

“So, what you're saying is ‘no sesquipadalian loquatiousness’.”

Shaw exhaled slowly through her nose. “If that means no more being a brainy showoff with a vocabulary longer than the game of thrones books, then yes.”

They got in the queue and began to read the menu behind the counter. Root quickly scanned the coffee drinks for her old favourite, then decided to predict what everybody else would have if they were here. Shaw would probably go for a plain coffee and a mince pie (she’ll find out if she's right soon enough), dear old Harry would want tea, the helper monkey always struck her as a cappuccino guy for some reason and Lionel….cops like caffeine, right?

Root and Shaw reached the front of the line. “Caramel macchiato, please,” requested Root, forcing herself to make eye contact with the cashier for one two three seconds.

“Mince pie and a coffee, please.” Shaw efficiently handed over the exact change and briskly moved out of the way for wait for their order.

“Mince pie?” A different cashier held up a plate and Shaw took it.

“Thank you.” A minute later they received their beveridges and sat next to each other at a 4-seater table in the far back corner facing the door.

“This alright?” asked Shaw before she put her cup down.

“It’s great.” Seating arrangements had become second nature to them now: Shaw liked to be able to see an exit, Root liked to keep Shaw on her left and neither of them liked to be surrounded by people. Root suspected Shaw had been spending so much time around her that when people sat on Shaw’s left it felt strange for her, but Root didn't mention it.

Shaw devoured her mince pie and told Root how good it was while the other woman blew on her macchiato, took one sip and promptly burnt her tongue. Exclaiming, she spat her mouthful back into the cup and jerked her head back.

“Too hot for you?” enquired Shaw mildly.

Root discreetly wiped the excess drool off her chin with the back of her hand. “Just like you, Sweetie.”

“Is that a compliment or were you dragging yourself?”

“Both?”

Shaw held up one hand in a ‘stop’ gesture. “Self-depreciating humour is not allowed. There is nobody else I would rather be with, end of.”

Somewhere to their right, a small child began screaming at a glass-shattering pitch. Shaw winced and Root followed her gaze to discern what the other woman was reacting to. When she caught sight of the screaming child her entire body tensed. She was actually terrified of children, always had been.

Shaw drained her cup and scraped back her chair. “I’ll handle this.” She approached the young girl who was stood by a table alone waiting for her dad to come back with their drinks. Squatting down to the child’s height, Shaw began saying something to her. 

Root couldn't hear any of it and was at the wrong angle to lipread so she resolved to ask Shaw upon her return. The child gazed at Shaw in fascination and hung on to her every syllable.

Just as Shaw finished, the little girl’s father returned holding a take-out cup and a juice box, looking incredibly relieved and grateful. Shaw stood and exchanged a few quick words with him which Root assumed to be along the lines of ‘thank you’ and ‘you're welcome’.

Smiling, Shaw sat back down.

“What did you say to that child?” asked Root, completely failing to hide how impressed she was.

“I told her about Bear. Everybody loves Bear.”

Root grinned into her coffee. This was by far her best shopping trip ever.


	9. Let's have some fun (and by fun I mean a disaster)

“It was all Root’s idea,” Shaw said.

“And you _went along with it_?” asked Lionel in horror.

“What else was I supposed to do?” She looked at him as if he were stupid.

“Well, anythin’ Cuckoo’s Nest suggests is never safe, sane or legal so here's a wild idea: not do the thing!”

There was a lull in the conversation as Shaw deemed her threatening glare enough of a reply.

Root slowly stretched her legs out and stood up. “Now you two are done talking about me as if I’m not here, how about we give this a try?” She held one of the plastic sleds aloft.

Shaw quickly jumped up off the sofa and claimed another, followed begrudgingly by Lionel. The trio were already prepared and dressed like Eskimos. Earlier that day Root had suggested to Shaw they go sledding, but between then they didn't have a single clue about what to do hence they called Lionel who kindly offered to come over and give them a masterclass. Which is why Lionel, clad in a fleece, a parka, wellies and a balaclava, was stood outside their safehouse radiating waves of annoyance and exasperation.

Root cheerfully plowed on ahead to the top of the snow-covered hill they were going to sledge down while Lionel hung back to speak to Shaw.

“Ya know,” he muttered, “I don't actually know how to sledge but I did read a wikihow article before I set off.”

Shaw punched his shoulder then marched on ahead to catch up with Root and fill her in on the latest development.

“The audacity of him!” exclaimed the taller woman.

“It’s OK, I already punched him for you,” Shaw said.

Root gently brushed Shaw’s shoulder with her own. “My hero.”

By that time, the three of them had reached the top of the hill. It was quite large, coated with a good foot or so of snow and had a few bare-branched trees dotted around.

Lionel sat on his sled and began explaining the basics. “To set off you just push yourself off, to steer you shift your weight to the side and to stop pull up the breaks.” As he mentioned each action he mimed it, then stood and shouldered his sled. “Coco Puffs can go first. I’ll go wait at the bottom for you.”

While Lionel made his way down, Root got comfortable on her sled then dug her heels into the snow and dragged herself forwards until she was perched just where the hill began to slope downwards. Then she gave one last push and she was off! Gathering speed with every second, the ice cold wind brought tears to her eyes and pricked her bare cheeks.

A tree loomed in front of her threateningly and Root realised she was headed straight for it. Just like Lionel had taught her, she threw all her weight to the left in hopes of avoiding the obstacle. Things didn't quite go as intended since the edge of the sled abruptly shot upwards and the next thing Root knew she was lying facedown in the snow with the sled on top of her. Spitting out a mouthful of snow, she lifted her head. “Lionel!” she yelled. “Ya done goofed!”

“ROOT ARE YOU OK?” hollered Shaw from the top of the hill. Poised to run if there was an emergency, Root noticed.

“I’m good,” called Root in reply. Under her breath she added, “Well no. I’m cold and wet and undignified but that’s not your fault so it isn't your place to listen to me whine.” Brushing the snow off herself, she stood.

Eventually Lionel trudged up to her and gave the world’s most put-upon sigh. “What’s the problem, Snowflake?”

Root put a hand on her hip and glared down at him, thankful for her height even though it sometimes made her feel awkward. “You gave me false instructions!”

“But you're-”

“Yes, I’m unharmed but I could have died! My life flashed before my eyes!”

“Yeah right. It'd take more than that to kill you, Candycane.”

By the time Root had come up with a suitable biting response (‘Well I am a professional’) Lionel had already moved his attention to Shaw, whose nose was beginning to turn red from the cold. 

“You're up, Rudolph!”

Root kicked angrily at the snow to take out her momentary frustration, which admittedly made her feel slightly better. Lionel dragged her by the hood of her coat to the bottom of the hill, causing her to stumble and huff irritatedly at him.

“Ready?” called Shaw as she settled onto her sled.

“As we'll ever be,” Root replied smoothly. She watched Shaw push off and race down the hill in more or less a straight line, avoiding the trees completely. Trust Shaw to be good at literally everything, thought Root fondly. Except reaching high shelves but even then it is quite the sight when she balances on a table, three chairs and a stepladder just to he the toothpaste out of the bathroom cabinet.

As Shaw began to approach them she took hold of the brake handles and pulled up, but the right brake snapped off in her hand. Discarding it over her shoulder, she threw herself off the sled and kicked it to the side with one foot while faceplanting the snow. The sled continued on its tangent until it hit a tree, a safe distance away from where Root and Lionel were standing.

Root immediately ran over to Shaw and knelt beside her. “Sweetie, that was so brave!”

“It was nothing. And at at least we're both covered in snow now. Remind me whose fault that is?” Shaw looked pointedly at Lionel, who was dry as a bone.

“Hey don't look at me, Grumpy. This was your idea.” He held up his hands.

“Because we thought you'd know what to do!” Root protested.

“Why couldn't you call Glasses or Wonderboy? I’m pretty sure _one_ of you must have been sledging at some point.”

Root's eyebrows shot up and down. “I was the only child of an ‘unwell’ single mother in smalltown Texas.” She made quotation marks with her fingers when she said ‘unwell’ and tried to keep her face neutral. Sameen was the only person she had spoken to about her mother having dementia.

Shaw shrugged. “My parents and I moved around a lot.”

“And Harry was too busy with his computers,” Root chimes in.

“And Reese doesn't talk about his past. And Bear is a dog so doesn't sledge,” finished Shaw.

Lionel blinked. “Its no wonder you all get on so well.”

“That and we literally don't know anybody else,” Root added. “Unless you count Carter, Zoe and who is that other person?”

“Leon,” supplied Shaw.

“Yeah, Leon. But those three are always busy and difficult to get in touch with.”

“I see,” Lionel said.

“So this was an epic disaster,” announced Root brightly. Then she lay back and began to make a snowangel.

“You're just going to make yourself colder,” observed Shaw.

Root closed her eyes. “I don't care. Besides we can warm up with eggnog later.”

“I gotta go pick Lee up from soccer. I’ll see you around,” Lionel said.

Root didn't move even though her fingers and toes were going numb. She gave it a minute until she was sure Lionel was out of earshot then said, “I think we scared him off.”

“Ya think?” scoffed Shaw. “Now come inside before your skinny ass literally freezes off.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Casual reminder that I am 5'2 so every time Shaw is teased about her height I am essentially dragging myself.


	10. Giving the gift of...shortbread?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no excuse for this.

Shaw entered the safehouse dressed to the nines in stilettos, a knee-length deep purple dress with a slit up the side and a delicate silver clasp pinning her hair up in a fancy twist.

Pushing her glasses up her nose, Root closed her laptop and allowed her gaze to rove up and down her girlfriend. “You could kill a man with those heels,” she observed.

“I’ll settle for reaching a high shelf.” Shaw stalked off to the kitchen and Root could just hear her raiding the cupboards, followed by Bear barking happily as he was given a treat. Seconds later Shaw reentered eating a bag of chips, kicked off her shoes and flopped down next to Root on the sofa, patting the space next to her for Bear.

Root tried to hide her wince as Shaw’s dress got wrinkled. Yes, Sameen probably thought it was frivolous and a waste of money but she looked so beautiful in it.

Having polished off her snack, Shaw began roughly yanking the accessories out of her hair.

“Here, let me,” murmured Root. She knelt up and gently unclipped the clasp and removed the bobby pins. Then she combed Shaw’s hair with her fingers until it fell in soft, loose waves. “Do you want it up?”

“No thanks.”

Root hummed in acknowledgement then began massaging Shaw's scalp; the other woman had probably spent a really stressful day running after some number. Root knew she could easily ask the machine for details, but she preferred hearing the stories from Shaw.

“Today's number was Stanley Flint,” said Shaw, running her fingers through Bear’s fur. “Single father who's ex was planning on hacking into his bank account and stealing all his money. But luckily I was around to shoot her laptop in the nick of time before the transfer could be completed.”

“And what was the fancy getup for?”

“The ex was doing her hacking in the ladies’ of a club; make it harder for people to find her. I had to look the part.”

Root finished her massage and sat back down.

Shaw looked at her. “What have you been up to? And please tell me you did not spend all day hunched over a computer.”

She lightly hit Shaw on the arm. “I did not! That was just me finishing Harry’s Christmas present. I wrote him some code.” She couldn't resist a little self-satisfactory grin. He was going to love it.

“Can't Harold...write his own...code?” asked Shaw in what was trying so hard not to be confusion, looking slightly lost.

Root’s smile grew wider as she opened her laptop and set her programme running to show Shaw. “This isn't just any piece of code,” she explained proudly. “It is a voice-activated translation programme. It switches on when somebody starts speaking, detects which language it is and can instantly translate their words into any other language with pinpoint accuracy. Even sign language, Braille, binary or Morse code. If I have time I’m going to add Semaphore. You know, the flag-waving thing.” She had been working on it in secret for weeks, because any other present wasn't worthy or useful enough.

Shaw said something in what Root assumed was Farsi and the translation immediately popped up on screen. ‘That is so cool’.

Root smiled softly and put an arm around Shaw's shoulders. “Thank you.”

“So, you made presents for anybody else?” Shaw asked.

“I have everybody's main presents, but I still need to get Harry and Her punny presents.”

“Punny presents?”

Root nodded and fetched a small Christmas bag from by the coffee table. “It’s for our holiday gathering.” She began producing various assorted foodstuffs and laying them out on the table. “The root beer is mine, _Reese_ ’s pieces are for the big lug, this is yours - Shawtbread, and for Lionel I’m going to give him the lions out of this packet of animal gummy candy because _Lion_ el and for Joss this juice box because ‘Joss’ kinda sounds like ‘juice’.”

When Root had finished speaking, Shaw shook her head in despair. “I think that might just be the weirdest thing you have ever done. Which is not a title I use lightly, considering you have made some pretty out-there lifestyle choices.”

An uncomfortable weight settled in the pit of Root’s stomach and she felt like she was going to be sick.

“I didn't mean it like that,” Shaw quickly backtracked, standing up and putting her hands on Root’s shoulders.

The taller woman swallowed. “Like what?”

“Whatever made you upset. Heck, Root, I never mean to make you upset. I’m just really bad at this whole ‘relationship’ thing. And don't even get me started on ‘feelings’.” Shaw said feelings the way most people might say ‘the plague’ and shuddered to emphasise her point, drawing a small chuckle out of Root.

“I know. And I’m sorry for overreacting. What you said reminded me of the kind of things people yelled at me as a kid, and even though i’ve worked hard to distance myself from all of that it still catches up with me every now and then. And coming from somebody I care about so much…” She laughed tearfully. “Look at us. Who would have thought we'd be that couple who talk about our feelings all the time?”

Shaw shrugged. “Being open and honest is probably the only way this would work, no matter how against our base code that is.”

“Yeah.” Root noted Shaw’s computer metaphor and smiled. She knew she could go from zero to sixty in a matter of seconds and was beginning to feel embarrassed at her earlier outburst. 

Then her implant crackled to life with static and the Machine’s patchwork voice spoke. “It's alright. We love you just the way you are.” For the last few words, She played a snippet of a song and Root grinned. 

“Do you two have any suggestions for my final two punny gifts?” Root asked. “I was thinking there might be a beer or something named after a type of bird. Or some kind of play on Thornhill?”

Shaw pondered for a few seconds then shook her head. “Total mindblank, sorry.”

“I’ll get back to you on that one,” said the Machine. “By the way, Detective Carter is here.”

Right on cue, the doorbell rang. “It’s Joss,” Root informed Shaw.

The shorter woman glared at the webcam on the laptop then went to answer the door with Root hovering shyly behind her. 

Carter smiled apologetically before either of them had chance to say hello. “Sorry, I know I’m a day early, but I was in the area and didn't fancy driving all the way back to New York in this weather. Is it alright if I spend the night? I don't mind sleeping on the sofa. But if you don't have room for me that isn't a problem. Anyway, how have you two been?”

Shaw opened the door fully and moved against the wall, out of Joss’s way. “Come in.”

Joss laughed and entered, taking off her coat. 

“We've been good thank you,” said Root as if she was following a script, while analysing Joss’s body language to see if she was going to hug her. She wasn't. “And you?”

“Not too bad. Root, I didn't know you wore glasses.”

“Um yeah, sometimes.” She awkwardly adjusted her glasses then clasped her hands, suddenly aware of her body.

“They suit you.”

Root actually blushed. “Thanks.”

Shaw cleared her throat. “Of course you can stay, Carter. We’d never turn you away.”

“Thanks Shaw,” Joss said warmly. “I really appreciate it.”

“No problem.”


	11. We wish you a merry Christmas...

Even though no new guests had actually arrived yet, the safehouse was buzzing. Shaw was toing and froing between the kitchen and the dining room getting their fancy Christmas dinner ready because “your punny food is fantastic, Root, but it doesn't exactly qualify as a meal”, Carter was chipping in with some tidying and Root was standing in the middle of the living room trying not to look useless. It wasn't working.

Shaw came past in one of her nicer outfits balancing several dishes on her arm and paused. “Root, are you wearing your implant?”

“No?”

“Because you might want it when everybody is talking and stuff.” Shaw set her dishes down on the placemats and headed back to the kitchen.

Root, realising Shaw had made a very good point, retrieved the external component of her Cochlear implant from the drawer in her bedroom and fixed it in her ear. As she was switching it to the correct programme, Joss entered carrying a pink feather duster Root wasn't even aware they had.

“If you don't mind my asking what is-”

“Cochlear implant,” said Root. “I’m deaf in this ear.”

Joss blinked in surprise. “I did not know that.”

Bearing a large plate with a turkey on it, Shaw walked past again. “Yeah, that's because it happened after you moved to Toronto.”

Joss nodded. “That explains it then.”

Three smart raps on the door followed by a single chime of the doorbell.

“That’ll be Harry,” Root said with a beam. “I’ll get it.” She practically bounded over and threw open the door to reveal Harold, in a suit like always, holding a stack of cards and presents. “Merry Christmas Harry!” Before he could protest she wrapped her arms around him happily. “Come in.” She led him by the hand to the living room where he greeted Joss and Shaw.

“Yes, uh, merry Christmas Miss Groves, Miss Shaw and Detective Carter. It brings me the utmost pleasure to be able to celebrate this festive occasion with all of you.”

He was looking a little overwhelmed, Root noticed, so she took a few steps away from him to stop him feeling crowded. Doing so brought her closer to Shaw, she realised a second later with a little kick of excitement. For once in their lives they were all together without anybody to save. What a strange and alien concept. Better make the most of it then.

“Sit, sit!” Root shepherded everyone into the dining room and was about to usher Shaw into a chair when she tipped over her own two feet and stumbled, only to be caught by Shaw who swung her into a dip.

“Steady on, Princess!” laughed Shaw.

Root swallowed and tried to ignore the fact that she was being supported by nothing but Shaw’s strong arms. And they were strong - her biceps were clearly visible from this angle, as was her Marines tattoo, and they were...really something. Gosh darn it Root, focus!

Shaw helped Root upright then kept one hand on her shoulder in case she needed steadying.

“Thanks,” murmured Root gratefully.

“No problem,” replied Shaw under her breath. Then at a normal volume, “Yes, let us sit. Everything is already in place do just help yourself, no need to wait. We'll do cards when everyone is here and presents later.”

Harold raised his hand like a schoolboy.

“Problem?” Shaw asked.

Harold shook his head.

“Question? Observation? Comment?”

“I have a query. Where do we put the gifts?”

“Under the tree. Do I have to think of everything around here?”

Harold and Joss placed their presents under the tree with the small collection that had already amassed, then took their places at the table, which had been decorated within an inch of its life for the occasion. A white tablecloth embroidered with sparkly silver snowflakes had been laid across it, every place had a plate, side plate and a gold napkin folded into an origami bird.

Root smiled fondly. Shaw had precision-planned everything down to the minute because she swore blind the first Christmas they had together was going to be a success.

Root’s attention was caught by movement outside the window. Her pulse jumped automatically as she realised it might be an enemy operative, however that hypothesis was swiftly disproved upon her recognising the two figures in the car. “We have more customers,” she said.

Shaw, who was literally in the midst of sitting down with her butt halfway to the chair, closed her eyes in resignation.

“No, it's fine. I’ll get the door when it goes.” Root hadn't sat down yet because she didn't trust her body to obey her commands.

“Who is it?” asked Harold, who was sat with his back to the window.

“A curly-haired cop and a tall guy who looks like he was carved out of a tree.”

Shaw snorted a laugh and Joss coughed abruptly. Harold managed a disapproving glare that encompassed all three of them at once.

Then the doorbell rang twice and Root scurried out into the hallway. While there, she muttered a quick update to the Machine. “Did you see me trip? I died of embarrassment. Like, I am deceased.”

“This is untrue,” replied the Machine.

“No kidding.” Root opened the door and gave John and Lionel a smile that she hoped was welcoming and not creepy.

“Merry Christmas, Cinnamon Crunch,” said Lionel. “Ya got all the Avengers here?”

“Now you're both here, yes.” She smirked. “It is so cute that you drove here together. Did you take turns at the wheel? Divide the distance in half and share it out?”

“Good to see you too, Root,” said John with an ‘I’m not mad just disappointed’ look he must have learned from Harry.

“Invite them in,” the Machine prompted gently.

Why? thought Root. They aren't vampires. Well actually, I don't think I’ve ever seen Lurch go out in daylight or stand in front of a mirror but that's probably just a coincidence. Anyway… “Come on. The others are sat at the table.”

Root self-consciously led them into the dining room then took her seat on Shaw’s right. There were a few minutes of silence punctuated only by the occasional ‘pass the butter, if you please’ and ‘Root you can't put ketchup on turkey what the heck’ until everybody's plates had been filled and subsequently emptied.

It was then time for cards. Harold handed out expensive-looking cream envelopes addressed to each of them in cursive, flowing script. When Root received hers she wasn't even surprised to discover that the envelopes actually _felt_ upper class. She neatly opened it and pulled out a card decorated with purple flowers. At a glance, she read what was written inside then smartly produced a lighter from her pocket and set fire to it.

“Root!” exclaimed Shaw in horror.

“Exactly,” said Root darkly. When the card had been reduced to a charred heap on her plate, she got up and tipped it into the trash can.

Harold stared at her, slack-jawed in surprise even though he really ought to have seen that coming.

“Close your mouth, Finch,” Shaw said.

“Yeah, you'll catch flies,” added John.

Harold settled for pressing his lips together in irritation while everybody else distributed their cards. None of which ended up in the trash and varied from store bought (Lionel) to hand painted (Shaw) and everything in between.

“Thanks for the cards,” Root said politely. “She has some for y’all as well.” From under the table, Root produced a stack of freshly printed cards designed on a computer. “The Machine handled everything Herself apart from the physically picking the cards up.” 

It was kind of Her way of being present at the gathering since Shaw had vetoed Her having a seat at the table with a monitor and a webcam on it. Spoilsport. 

Shaw held up her phone with the camera facing her and said, “Thank You.” She then panned it around the table so everybody else could thank the Machine properly. Root couldn't help but almost glow with happiness. 

Joss then raised her glass of water - alcohol had also been vetoed - and announced: “Let’s make a toast. To families of choice.”

Root clinked her glass against Joss’s. “To being the best version of yourself.”

“To staying true to your ideals,” added Shaw.

“To having a purpose,” contributed John while looking at Harold.

“To doing the right thing,” said Harold.

And finally Lionel, “To keeping fighting even if you don't win.”

Right on cue, Bear barked and everybody laughed. Shaw tossed him some scraps from her plate, which Root silently wished she had thought of.

Harold genteelly cleared his throat. “I know it has been a difficult year for us all so I would like to express my deepest gratitude for how you have stuck with me through everything.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” muttered Root under her breath, effectively talking to her plate. It was none of his business who she stayed for.

Something solid made contact with Root’s thigh. She opened her mouth to complain, but when she caught sight of Shaw’s angry glare she closed it so abruptly that her teeth clacked together.

“Watch what you say,” Shaw mouthed silently.

Root nodded and kept her mouth closed for all of ten minutes while Joss told stories about her and Taylor’s life in Toronto. Then it was time for dessert.

Root stood and went into the kitchen to fetch a large Christmas pudding from the top shelf of the refrigerator. 

As she set it on the table Shaw said, “Tell me you didn't-”

“I didn't make it,” Root said. “She bribed a catering company for us.”

“I am completely stuffed,” announced Joss, leaning back in her chair. “I couldn't eat another bite.”

John laughed. “I’ll squeeze some in if you will, Carter.”

Root cautiously divided the pudding into equal segments and put one on each plate, giving Shaw the slice with a sprinkle of cinnamon on top.

Shaw plunged her spoon into it, then paused as there was a clank of metal on metal. She took out a segment and held it up to the light for examination. Buried inside the pudding was a bullet.

“The Machine told me about a tradition of putting a coin in a Christmas pudding,” Root explained. “I substituted it for a bullet, as a reminder of that time you shot me in the shoulder and of how far we have come since then.”

Shaw looked at Root tenderly, with a facial expression Root recognised as ‘volume turned up’. “That is so romantic.”

“Ya mean it's crazy,” corrected Lionel.

“For those two it's practically the same thing,” said John.

“Shh! You're ruining the moment,” Joss hissed.

Somewhere outside the safehouse, two gunshots were fired.

“I think you'll find that is ruining the moment,” observed Harold.


	12. ...and a happy new ye - oh crumbs!

Keeping her back against the wall, Root leaned forwards just enough to peer out of the window. “Samaritan. It’s literally Christmas day, don't they have anything better to do?”

“Evidently not,” said Harold with a sigh. “Miss Shaw stop eating! We are being besieged!”

Shaw scowled and out down her knife and fork. “It’s just a minor inconvenience. And Root has an entire drawer full of weapons of mass de-”

“Sweetie!” said Root sharply. “Not in front of the cops. No offense.”

Lionel shook his head. “None taken. It's not like we know you or anything.”

Jeremy Lambert’s voice was heard over a megaphone. “Come out with your hands up and nobody gets hurt.”

“Nobody gets hurt my ass,” muttered Shaw. “How did they find us anyway?”

“Followed the big lug, probably,” Root said. “Christmas is the time of year when everybody lets their guard down, after all. And She was just as surprised as us.”

Shaw nodded like Root had a point. “Oi Reese! Did you know you were being tailed?”

“Tail,” murmured Root to herself. For some unknown reason, that rang a bell. But was it really a clue or was she going mad?

“If I’d have known, I wouldn't have come,” replied John evenly.

Lambert sounded a blowhorn. Where did he even get a blowhorn? “I know you're in there. Don't make me start counting down.”

Root opened the window and yelled, “Alright, we're coming. Keep your hair on.” She slammed it closed and turned to her friends. “Bear’s collar.”

Shaw facepalmed and said something colourful in Farsi.

“You plannin’ on explaining for us mere mortals?” asked Lionel.

Root flapped a hand at him distractedly. “A while back Sameen and I were walking Bear in the park when this randomer came over to us and started stroking Bear and playing with his collar. I didn't think much of it at the time because I was having an awful migraine but they could easily have pinned a tracker or something to him.”

“Five,” Lambert called threateningly.

“There's who-knows-how-many of them and six of us - seven if you count the dog,” hissed Joss. “Let's just give up while we're all unharmed.”

General nods of agreement followed and Joss led the way out of the safehouse with her hands at shoulder height, palms facing forwards.

“At least I don't have any next of kin to contact since all my nearest and dearest are here,” Root said cheerfully, earning an ‘I really shouldn't still be concerned by things Coco Puffs says but oh well here we are again’ look from Lionel. 

“Line up against that wall,” ordered Martine, indicating with her gun to the wall perpendicular to the door. 

Outside in the snow was a black limo with tinted windows, probably filled with a government SWAT team or something equally dramatic. Which may pose an issue considering Joss and Lionel have children, Root realised. And the rest of them were hoping to at least make it to the new year.

Root and her friends trudged dejectedly to where Martine had pointed and stood there shivering, since none of them were dressed for outdoor excursions in winter weather.

“What are you going to do, Rosseau?” called Root through chattering teeth. “Kill us?”

“We thought about it,” said Martine, sharing a look with Jeremy. “But Greer wants you alive.” She wrinkled her nose. “I have no idea why.”

A sarcastic remark sprung to Root’s lips, but before she could take a breath an expensive-looking white car pulled up onto the driveway. It meant nothing to Root, but judging from Shaw’s smile the shorter woman recognised it. Or she just really liked the car.

Then Zoe Morgan gracefully disembarked from the front passenger seat, wearing a long coat trimmed with fur and looking pristine as always. “Sorry I’m late.”

“You're right on time,” replied Joss, not bothering to hide her grateful smile.

Zoe winked at them before turning to Lambert. “Now Jeremy,” she admonished like a suburban mom scolding her wayward son for the umpteenth time. “I’d let these people go if I were you. Otherwise some sensitive information might find its way into the hands of some powerful people.” She shrugged innocently and spread her hands out in front of her.

Lambert smirked. “I’ll give you that, Morgan. You're a good liar. But that's all you are - a liar.”

Laughing, Zoe walked over to him and whispered something in his ear. As she was speaking,Lambert's face cycled through self-righteousness, surprise and worry before settling on fear.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “Martine - into the car.”

The blonde woman looked at him with raised eyebrows. “You have to be kidding me.”

“Sadly, no. Now get in the car, Rosseau!*

Martine rolled her eyes and holstered her gun, climbing into the driver's seat of the limo. Jeremy followed a few seconds later, glaring distrustfully at Zoe.

“That's right,” Zoe called, smiling. “Keep walking. You walk alone!”

They all watched as the limo drove away, to make sure it didn't come back. But clearly Zoe’s threat was enough to scare them off for good. Root had a feeling that was the last they would be seeing of those particular Samaritan operatives for a long time. 

“Why is it that you lot can't seem to stay out of trouble for more than a few days?” asked Zoe. “It seems I spend half my life bailing you out of a dangerous situation.”

“You always did know how to make an entrance,” John said. 

“I was in the area,” replied Zoe smartly. “Now let's take this party inside before poor Lionel here freezes.”

“Thank goodness!” Lionel exclaimed. “I was startin' to think I was the only one gettin’ cold.”

As they went inside, Shaw laughed. “That's unlikely considering the amount of padding you got.”

He let out an indignant sound that can only be described as a squawk.

The team all gathered around the fire to warm up. Shaw knelt on the floor next to Bear, joined by Root who rested her head on her girlfriend's shoulder. Lionel claimed the easychair and footrest, Zoe sat in the rocking chair and John sat in the middle of the three-seater sofa with Joss and Harold on either side of him.

Root soon found herself hypnotised by the soothing movements of the fire in the grate and comfort of being with all her friends but before she could drift off, she gave voice to the question that was burning at the forefront of her mind. “Hey Zoe. What did you say to Jeremy to make him abandon ship like that?”

Zoe smiled. “I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you. And considering how much effort I just put in making sure that doesn't happen, I think that would be a bit of a waste, don't you?”

“Fine don't tell us,” Shaw said. “Either way, you saved our lives and deserve a drink. Anyone for eggnog?”

At everybody’s cries of affirmation, Shaw stood and went to fetch drinks. Apparently the alcohol veto didn't extend to festive beverages after life-or-death situations, Root noted.

“When she comes back we can swap embarrassing stories,” suggested Joss. 

“Ooh yes!” cried Zoe.

Harold winced. “Must we?”

“Come on Finch,” said John. “It’ll be fun! You must have at least one embarrassing story about me.”

Harold smiled. “I suppose it might provide entertainment.”

“That's my guy!” grinned Root. “The Machine and I have some great tales to share!”

Shaw came back and handed out warm mugs of eggnog. “Merry Christmas! And here’s to a happy new year!”


End file.
